Being A Mom

What Being a Mom Means to Me

There are so many things in life you think you understand — until you actually experience them.
Motherhood is one of those things.
No book, no advice, no amount of imagining could have prepared me for what it really felt like to become a mom.
It’s messy, it’s magical, it’s overwhelming, and it’s the greatest transformation I’ve ever known.
This is my journey — my interpretation of what it truly means to be a mother.

It all starts with the birth.
Delivery was a kind of out-of-body experience.
I remember when it was finally over — feeling so relieved the pain had stopped that I almost forgot there was a baby in the equation. Those moments during delivery when you sound like a wild animal, pushing this baby into the world — they're wild, raw, and powerful.

And then comes the moment you see your child, and you are madly, irrevocably in love.

I wrote in my journal afterward that I felt like I was suddenly part of the tribe — an experience only women who have given birth would understand.
"Women, hear me roar" made perfect sense.
The tribe heard me — and I was one of them.

I remember crying for days, simply because I didn’t know any other way to express the love I felt.
The love was so fierce, so powerful — the kind of love that explains exactly why a momma bear will protect her cubs at any cost.
Nothing comes between me and my child.
It’s overwhelming — but unstoppable.

This is when our superpowers kick in.
We go nights without sleeping.
We survive hourly feedings, endless laundry, trying to keep ourselves fed and rested enough just to do it all again the next day.
I think back to being a 42-year-old new mom, wondering, How did I even do it?
And I get why women often start younger — it takes so much energy!

But I have to say: my superpowers worked even at 42.
Everything got done.
I survived.
And most importantly — Tallulah thrived.

As she grew up, I remember thinking: I can't wait until she's potty trained...
I can't wait until I don't have to carry her everywhere...
And then — just like that — those moments were gone.
And all I wanted was to have her tiny again.

Babies change how moms experience time.
It's not about years — it's about milestones.

Now, Tallulah is 21 years old.
No more baby talk, no more diapers, no more reminders to say thank you.
Do I miss those early years? A little.
Am I happy she’s living her life and making her own decisions?
Yes.
Do I still worry?
Heck yeah.

But I trust that I did my job — that she knows right from wrong.

No matter how grown up she gets, being her mom will always be my #1 priority.
My heart still skips a beat when, at the end of a phone call, she says, "I love you, Mom."

As she gets older, she sees me differently — not just as Mom, but as a woman.  Now she appreciates my interests, my style, my journey.

I love when she comes home and rummages through my closet, saying,
"Mom, this is so cool... can I borrow it?"
Or when she watches me work and tells me she’s proud, amazed at all that I've accomplished.

A mother-child connection is bigger than just love — it’s in our style, our work ethic, our mannerisms.  It's how we reflect each other in small, beautiful ways.

There’s no simple way to explain motherhood.
The love, the pride, the astonishment over this little person who started in my belly...

It’s truly a miracle.

To every woman who has joined this sacred, beautiful tribe of motherhood — whether by birth, by adoption, by heart, or by spirit — I see you. I celebrate you.

We are connected by something ancient and powerful, a love so deep it defies words.
It’s a bond that ties us together across generations, across time, across all the messy, magical, miraculous moments.  We are the tribe.

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